


Queen To...

by makos_lightningrod



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Stydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:05:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1628270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makos_lightningrod/pseuds/makos_lightningrod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thought about when he was trying to explain the supernatural world to his father, the way the pieces lined up, easy to place because at that point it was only just werewolves and hunters, and yeah, the kanima, but still, things were easier back then before he thought he lost his mind and things weren’t just a game anymore.<br/>"What’s this?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen To...

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on lydiasgotstiles.tumblr.com

"What’s this?" 

The board was still out, sticky notes in place atop each piece in the same positions he it left them in. Stiles glanced over the top of his Biology book, staring at the worn board. As a child, he would play endless games of chess with his father, always wanting to win and prove that he could think about the future, anticipate the moves others would make.

He slid off his bed, socks shuffling before he fingered the yellow sticky note with Jackson scrawled across it. ”It’s chess, Lydia,” he said it in a way he knew would make her wrinkle up her forehead, a way that would make her give him that look like she was trying to understand why he would act stupid when she knew he wasn’t.

"I know that,” she answered back with a small huff ending on her lips, and he watched the way they moved for a moment, painted red like the blood of her enemies, like she didn’t want to hide the words that came out. 

"But why is everyone on it but me?" Her eyes crinkled up for a moment before she quirked an eyebrow at him. "And you?"

He thought about when he was trying to explain the supernatural world to his father, the way the pieces lined up, easy to place because at that point it was only just werewolves and hunters, and yeah, the kanima, but still, things were easier back then before he thought he lost his mind and things weren’t just a game anymore.

Then the pieces were death threats and toys, people for him to sacrifice and pit against one another.

"I was-I used it to explain about everyone to my dad when I told him about, you know, werewolves and stuff," he tried to play it off, tried to not let his hand shake as he grabbed the rook and tore off the little piece of yellow paper attached. "You weren’t anything when I did it. That came later."

"I see…" She trailed off, her eyes narrowing as she glanced back at the board. His heart beat hard against his ribcage, and he knew that she had to know something about this. Scott or his dad or someone had to have told her that the Nogistune had tried to trick his way into chaos and strife and pain with this chessboard.

“You’ve got it set up wrong, though,” she said after a moment, her fingers plucking off the scrap of paper with Derek scribbled across and putting that on one of the pawns. ”If anyone’s the king, it’s you.” She grabbed the slip of sticky-notes, her letters round and big as she wrote out his name on the stark yellow sheet and stuck it on top of the king.

It made sense, now that she said it. He was the weakest, the one everyone had tried so hard to protect. He was the useless piece on the board.

His mouth felt full of cotton balls as he spilled out, “And what piece are you then?” She was already rearranging the sticky notes, taking Scott’s and placing it on one of the knights and adding Morell as another rook to join Deaton in his blue sticky glory and didn’t seem to hear him.

"Hmm?" Her fingers gently pried open his hand, plucking up the yellow Jacksonand setting it on one of the pawns. ”Oh, me? I guess I’d be a bishop. After all, I only can do one thing.” 

Her lips quirked up in a sarcastic smile before she scrawled out her own name and placed it on one of the pieces. He stared at the board, but he knew that was wrong. Lydia Martin wasn’t a bishop. She wasn’t a pawn or a rook or a knight.

”You’re wrong,” he said after a beat, peeling off the tag and placing it on top of the piece sitting beside his. ”You’re so much more than that.”

Lydia Martin was always and forever the queen.


End file.
